


Respite

by Clocksmith



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocksmith/pseuds/Clocksmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when you feel the weight of your own issues pulling you down, there are always others out there who struggle just as much with their own demons. But no matter who you are, it's always nice to have someone by your side in those situations. Someone you can rely on to support you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

She shifts and turns violently in her sleep. I can feel her at my back, shaking and mumbling something dark under her breath. I still catch the odd word; ‘sorry’, ‘I’m so’ and ‘very’ prominently among them.

I roll over and just stare at her for a moment, struggling to wring the sleepiness out of my eyes. I blink a few times more until I can barely see her face twisted into something sad and ugly. Nothing like how she usually is around me.

“Max…” I shuffle closer to her, hesitating against her skin before taking one of her hands in both of mine. “It’s okay, Max. I’m here.”

Despite what I say, I’m not entirely sure she can hear me.

I shift closer to her, until our bodies are practically touching. I glare at the minute gap that exists between us, unsure if I want it to be there at all. My eyes wander over Max’s face, falling to the edge of her collarbone as it peeks out from beneath her loose pyjama shirt. I follow the curve of her body as it vanishes beneath the covers before I settle back on her face again.

The dark makes it hard, but I’m sure I can see pain as it pulls hard at the muscles in her cheeks. She always gets like this when she has nightmares; like someone’s cutting away at her immortal soul.

I pull my hand to her shoulder and shake it. “Max,” I say again, giving her another shake. “Come on, dear. Come back to me.”

The shivering and the shaking and the threatening-to-burst-tears suddenly halt in their advance. Max groggily opens her eyes, a dullness living behind them until she eventually locks sights with me.

“Hey,” she says. A stupid smile manages to slide onto her lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I really shouldn’t smile in a situation like this but I can’t help it. I do manage to hold back a giggle as it rises from my chest, though. I gently rub at her bicep, stroking my thumb over the soft skin.

It isn’t often we sleep like this, close to each other and sharing the same bed. We sometimes sleep in the same room, but those are the days I’m feeling especially forward. Despite what she says – she always tells me I have nothing to worry about around her – there’s still something about physical…physical _anything_ that sends a horrid chill up the back of my spine.

Not that I don’t enjoy it when Max wants to be physical with me.

Because I do. I really do.

I love it when Max plants small kisses on my cheeks, or just holds my hand when we’re doing something completely boring and asinine. She’s always there to give me a hug if I so much as _hint_ that I want one and – as annoying as it can be sometimes – she’s very fond of cuddling whilst watching movies or playing video games.

Though it only becomes annoying if she falls asleep on me, but that's a small price to pay for everything else she has to offer.

But then there are days when I don’t want to join her in the pursuit of cuddles, or accept her kisses as readily. Some days I wake up and don’t feel the desire for anything of that sort. I become anxious and jittery at the mere thought of growing remotely intimate with anyone.

On those days it just brings too many memories that I’d rather forget back to the surface. Hazy misremembered snippets of events that I only know to exist because someone was cruel enough to record them. I wonder if it could happen again and, if so, who has the camera.

Where have they hidden it?

Can anyone see us?

What will everyone say?

It sounds paranoid. It _is_ paranoid, but I’m not strong enough to break free from all of that yet. It’s very much there and I can’t get it far enough away before it claws its way back inside my head. Like some ungodly thing sent to test me for even thinking to deviate the way that I did.

All of that isn’t helped when most of my family and the clubs I've joined believe God would not allow me to be with another woman. They may not know about Max and I yet, but I’ve heard a few of them comment on the subject before. Some of them call it unsightly and sinful. Not all of them - I...I think I know who I could tell, and not all of them share my faith but there are still enough to make me think.

But I believe He would allow us to be happy; He would not have given me the chance to be with her, otherwise.

And I don’t believe He would punish any soul for the ‘crime’ of loving another; to love is not a sin. It never has been to me.

But then, thankfully, there are times like this; where I am in my bed with Max by my side. I remember that I’m not the only person on His Earth with problems and that everyone has demons of their own, prowling them from around every corner.

And if I can, I _will_ help Max battle with hers. She has done more than enough to get me started with mine.

“Hello, you,” I reply. “You were having a nightmare again.”

She makes a face I can’t quite describe; like she can’t believe what I just said, yet completely agrees that it must have happened at the same time. Maybe it’s just because she trusts in me by default.

If so, I adore that.

“Was I making the face again?”

I nod.

“Shit,” she moans, before she pulls the palms of her hands up into her eyes. Her form sags deep into the bed, as if the mere action of telling Max she had a bad dream goads her body into growing weak and weary. “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“N-no, no!” I try my best to sound convincing but I doubt anyone would believe me. God did not make a liar. “I was already awake.”

A questioning gaze is thrown my way before Max peers past me to the night-stand by my bed. I can see her eyes squint towards the clock there. “At three thirty-two?”

“I was a little awake?”

He did not make me a _good_ liar, at any rate.

“You were _not_ a little awake.”

“Would you rather I went back to sleep?”

This seems to get her. Whether that’s because she’s just _that_ tired or she genuinely takes the question seriously is up for debate.

I must admit, the latter would be quite nice.

Regardless, Max clenches her eyes shut and releases a rather unsightly yawn into the back of her hand. By the time she’s done her head is already burrowing its way back into the feathery confines of her pillow.

I settle back down next to her, but not before she briefly tugs at the fabric of my pyjamas. I can already guess at what’s she’s going to ask and it brings another smile onto my lips. I wouldn’t exactly call it Max knowing her place, but it means an awful lot to me that Max doesn’t try to push her luck when it comes to being…intimate.

“Wanna be my big spoon?” she asks.

Not that either of us really considers snuggling to be intimate but…it bodes well. It gives me hope that things won’t spiral out of control further down the line when Max wants to actually grow more intimate with me.

But Max knows how I see all of that and it’s not something for tonight anyway. We can cross that bridge when we come to it.

Right now, my girlfriend needs a spoon.

"I'm sure I could fit you in somewhere," I reply. "Is now good?"

She's already twisting around so her back is against my chest. Her body nudges back several times until I'm able to lean my head in just over her shoulder.

"Now would be perfect."

I plant a chaste kiss just below her ear and wrap my arms around her stomach.

I'm in control of this situation, I tell myself. I'm on the outside; this is my decision and I have nothing to worry about. I can be with her like this without anyone else thinking it's their business. Its my choice, when I pull her in tight and-

I reluctantly pull one arm back out and let it rest behind me. There's no way I could keep it under Max all night. It would fall asleep before I did.

Max will have to settle for one arm draped over her stomach.

"Couldn't get comfy?" She groggily asks. I open my mouth but she already seems to know my answer. "Been there, done-" She yawns. "Done that..."

Before I can comment on anything else she's already on her way back to the realm of sleep. I nuzzle into her the crook of her neck as her breathing settles into something calm. A far, thankful cry from the minutes before now.

"Goodnight, dear," I mumble as I settle into my own own steady rhythm. I close my eyes and eagerly wait for sleep to claim me as well. "God bless."

**Author's Note:**

> More Marshfield! Yaaay!
> 
> I've seen a common theme in Marshfield pieces where Max coddles Kate after everything that happened to her. While care is very important for people like Kate, couples need to be on an equal footing; if one lives to coddle the other it can lead to an unhealthy relationship and eventual unhappiness. I wanted to show that Kate can be there for Max, too. After all, Kate wasn't always depressed and I don't think she would stay that way forever.
> 
> That's sort of why I waited to mention Max's name at the start. I wonder if many people thought it was Kate having the nightmare at first?
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this wee snippet. Writings may not come as quickly as this one has but I am enjoying just posting drabbles as I write them.


End file.
